


We Who Lead Tomorrow

by ExaltedBrand



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Bittersweet, Cunnilingus, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Gentle Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sad, Tribadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExaltedBrand/pseuds/ExaltedBrand
Summary: Given a rare opportunity to forget her hardships and consider Fódlan's future, Empress Edelgard turns to another young monarch for counsel.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Micaiah (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	1. The Duty of a Ruler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing suggestion from 7_27_1978

While she would have been reluctant to admit it to anyone, Edelgard found her sudden arrival in Askr to be an unexpected blessing. The war she’d been waging for five long years now, even as it raced towards its conclusion, had started to wear on her, and the weight of all the lives lost to her cause—both on her side and her enemy’s—became increasingly clear as the sum of the dead rose higher and higher after every battle. Time in Fódlan, she came to understand, was frozen while she was in Askr, and so rather than spending her days ruminating on the war she’d left behind, she decided to turn her attention to the future instead; to enjoy the reprieve these strange circumstances offered, even if it meant lending her strength to the Order’s cause, and to consider the actions she’d take when the Church of Seiros had finally been defeated.

Being in Askr presented an invaluable opportunity: the chance to talk with different rulers from other worlds—worlds not consumed with hatred towards her, or blinded by the Church’s years of manipulation. Here, she could speak with those who had weathered similar tests to the ones she now faced and take on their wisdom for when she’d finally rule in a time of peace.

At the same time, she knew that some caution was prudent. The Order of Heroes counted a staggering number of nobles among its ranks, but just because someone could be considered a ‘hero’ didn’t mean that their counsel was necessarily wise or even compatible with her own views. She sought disagreement when it was important, and debate when it was productive; but what she really needed was someone like-minded. Someone who could see the benefit to her ideals and understand what she wanted to accomplish while being able to add input from their own experiences and trials.

In Micaiah, the newly-crowned queen of a kingdom known as Daein, she’d found something close to what she was looking for. She’d ascended to the throne after a war fraught with manipulation, even being deceived into taking up arms against her own sister, the supplanted empress of neighbouring Begnion. She’d known first-hand the nobility’s capacity for cruelty, and was all too familiar with the suffering their schemes visited on the weak. And so, by the Empress's invitation, they sat together in Edelgard’s room—a smaller place than she was accustomed to, but comfortably reminiscent of her quarters at the Officer’s Academy—sharing tea while discussing their experiences trying to build a better world.

It wasn’t Bergamot tea, like Edelgard would have preferred, but Princess Sharena had done her best to recommend a few blends that came close to the flavour she’d described. It still didn’t taste quite right to her, but at least Micaiah seemed to be enjoying it.

“I think I understand…” Micaiah said, taking a sip of the tea. “So these Crests in your world—and the strength of individual Crests, or even the lack of them—lead to discrimination even within noble families? I can’t believe such a terrible system could take root so deeply into everyday life…”

“Nor I,” Edelgard replied, “but such is the unjust way of things in Fódlan. If the continent is ever to find peace, the stranglehold of Crests must be broken. But only through the combined efforts of all who share my vision—to see the world become a place of equality, not governed by blood or inheritance—will such a dream become reality.”

“You’re nobility yourself. If these Crests dictate the influence of the nobility, then… surely in doing this, you’re sacrificing your own position.”

“I am. Yet I would give up all of that privilege and more if it meant dismantling our abhorrent fixation on Crests. In the old days of the Adrestian Empire, vital positions were determined not by competency, but by mere political standing. I can scarcely begin to imagine how many talented candidates were turned away simply because they came from common backgrounds, or even held noble titles but failed to possess the right Crests.”

Micaiah looked at her solemnly. “So then, in other words… you’d sacrifice anything if it meant the happiness of your people? Even your own happiness?”

“Without a doubt. That’s the duty of a ruler.”

Micaiah’s serious expression gave way to a warm smile. “I feel just the same. If you can’t put the needs of your people first, then you’ve no right to rule them. Apathy only paves the way for tyranny…”

The queen of Daein sighed, falling into a brief silence.

“Even then,” she said, “I sometimes wonder if I’m too soft. Too easily led by love instead of logic. After I’d liberated Daein from Begnion’s occupation, I continued to do everything in my power for its people—I wasn’t queen then, but rather commander of the Daein Royal Army. I was so dedicated to its people, to the nation I’d come to call my own, that… when the king ordered me to wage a senseless war in solidarity with our former enemies, I blindly obeyed, no matter how strange it seemed. As it turned out, the king had been forced by a blood pact to order my actions, and I’d been none the wiser. And so my dedication to my cause—what I _thought_ was my cause, had been my cause in all the time I’d spent liberating Daein—brought me to commit atrocities… so I…”

Micaiah trembled, struggling to find the words to express herself.

“Love and loyalty aren’t always the same things,” Edelgard said. “Your love for your people seems to have inspired your loyalty to the nation and to the king, doubtless, but don’t think that loving one’s people too much can only lead to weakness.”

Micaiah nodded. “I couldn’t help, it really. For a long time, I lived as a fortune teller… Going from place to place, just trying to scrape by. I was… different to other people. Not just by being nobility-in-hiding, but in other aspects too…”

She hesitated, then drew off one of her pink gloves. Across the back of her hand, she showed Edelgard an odd, purple symbol: an arrangement of patterns almost resembling a bird. It gleamed faintly in the light.

It almost resembled…

“I suppose you might consider this the opposite of those Crests in your world,” Micaiah said. “Where they bring unnatural, even unfair advantages, these marks—they’re called Brands—only identify us as… half-breeds. Children of both beorcs and laguz. A combination of races that unites both of them in disgust.”

Edelgard looked at it closely. “A… Brand, you called it?”

“Yes. Those like me are called the Branded. It’s… not a nice life, drawing the disdain of two peoples. Of course, the Branded are few in number. We’re rare enough that there’s no unified network for us. So we hide what we are, or suffer the world’s mistrust.”

“You say they’re the opposite of Crests—but just like Crests, they bring nothing but suffering. Isn’t that right?”

Micaiah hesitated. “In a way. But in an ideal world, I wouldn’t be rid of them. They’re a symbol of unity—the blending of two different yet wonderful races, each with their set of gifts to the world. We’re like… a bridge between the two. I want to celebrate that. But for those still suffering prejudice… it makes everything such a burden.”

She sighed, then her eyes regained their focus.

“But as I was saying—I lived among Daein’s people in my early years, hiding who I was. And while I was among them… I saw the burdens the common people had to bear. The hardships of everyday life. And when Begnion’s occupation came, those burdens grew into suffering. I saw the impact an unjust and cruel system could have on those helpless people.”

“Then you have the sort of perspective I could only dream of,” Edelgard said.

“What do you mean?”

“In a way, I believe we’ve experienced the effects of such systems from the two opposing walks of life. Your accession to the throne was the first time you’d held any form of political power, if I understand correctly?”

“Y-yes,” Micaiah said, looking somewhat self-conscious about it.

“Then while I had the perspective of someone in line for the highest seat of power in the Empire—the bigger political picture—you understood what it was like for those living ordinary lives in the towns and villages far below any towering walls or palaces. It may sound strange, Queen Micaiah, but… I’m a little jealous.”

Micaiah tilted her head, and her white hair swayed to the side. “Jealous?”

Edelgard nodded. “Even as I strive to do what’s right for all people of Fódlan, some have criticised me for only considering my own feelings; that I’m… ‘self-righteous’ for pushing my ideals onto others. And while I refuse to err from my goal… those sorts of accusations could stir doubt in anyone’s heart. I want to do right by my people, but I’ve hardly walked in their shoes. I’ve never tilled a field, or swung a hammer, or… or to be honest, even talked to them.”

“If it’s any comfort, I’ve never worked fields or swung hammers either,” Micaiah giggled. “But you want to help them, don’t you? You want to protect them?”

“Of course. I want the best for all my citizens. So long as Crests continue to exert their influence over everyday life, the world I envision will never come to fruition. But if I can change that, then the Fódlan I want will be within reach.”

Micaiah smiled again. “Then isn’t that enough? We can only do what’s within our power. You want to bring positive change to people’s lives—and that’s a wonderful thing.”

“I suppose that’s where love and loyalty coincide. If one’s ideals are born from a love of your people, then loyalty to those ideals will keep you true to those people. A virtuous cycle.”

“One’s ideals…” Micaiah said, losing herself in thought for a moment. “I wonder what my ‘ideals’ are, beyond simply helping Daein to rebuild and recover. Maybe that’s why I feel so aimless… So prone to doubt.”

“It’s natural to question one’s reasons every now and then. Clearly, I still question my own ideals sometimes… Whether it’s really out of a love for my people, these people I’ve scarcely met, or if it runs deeper than that.”

Edelgard put her cup down and stared out the window. She felt her expression turning grim even as she tried to keep it steady.

“Crests have brought me… no end of suffering. Me, and all my siblings. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m simply driven by a need for revenge—to destroy the system which took so much from me. And if so, am I simply using my people’s livelihoods as a justification to myself? An excuse to make the war I’ve had to wage easier to swallow?”

She paused. She’d hardly even talked this openly with her professor before—yet here she was, in a perfectly ordinary conversation with a girl who was practically a stranger, spilling every last one of her doubts.

Was it just something about Micaiah? Did the similarities between them set Edelgard that much at ease?

Micaiah watched her, considering her response carefully. “I think,” she said slowly, “you should do what you believe is right. Few of us can claim our path is entirely pure. As I said, I walked a bloody path that I told myself—tricked myself into thinking, really—was in service to my people.”

“A path you believe was wrong,” Edelgard reminded her, looking back into her eyes. “So what does that say for mine? That to delude myself into believing I serve my people’s interests is to wage… what did you call it? A ‘senseless war’?”

“I don’t know your people,” Micaiah admitted. “I don’t know Fódlan, nor anything besides what you’ve told me about these Crests. But if they truly do cause nothing but inequalities—regardless of the benefits they provide their bearers—then even if you go after them for selfish reasons of revenge, are you not also helping to rid the world of the harm they cause?”

“Yes,” Edelgard said, trying to shake off her doubts. “Yes, that’s absolutely right. If the Crest system is abolished, then the whole system of nobility and privilege can be brought down with it!”

“In other words, Micaiah said, “it’s not so much your intentions that matter as much as… well, the effects in the end.”

She took a sip of her tea, and Edelgard almost felt the girl staring into her, looking within.

“I’d rather you did it for your people than for revenge,” she said. “I’d rather you fought with love in your heart, not hatred. But that’s not for me to decide. And if the end result is the same, then your people will be better off regardless.”

“I suppose that’s what matters in the end, isn’t it?” Edelgard sighed. “That Crests won’t hurt anyone ever again—not my loved ones, not my people.”

Micaiah smiled at her. “At the very least, Empress Edelgard, you seem like a good person to me. Tyrants wouldn’t question their motivations at all.”

Edelgard returned her smile. “Thank you, Queen Micaiah. It’s refreshing to have another ruler’s perspective, I must say. Too often, I’m only surrounded by advisors whose opinions are the same as mine. It’s nice to hear a fresh voice.”

“I feel the same as well,” Micaiah said. “I’ll have to think about what my ideals as a ruler really are… and whether I want to settle for simply doing my best for my people, or aspire to greater heights.”

“Greater heights? I would say the happiness of your people is a fine ideal already.”

“I agree. I only wonder if I could do more for them…”

She moved in place, almost ready to leave, then paused and looked towards Edelgard thoughtfully.

“You know… maybe if you’re concerned about your connections with the common people, you could talk to some of the villagers of Askr? See how they live, what they think of the monarchy? If nothing else, it might teach you about the sorts of mindsets they have.”

“Talk with them?” Edelgard paused for a moment, considering the idea. “It’s… an interesting proposition. But without the full experience of life in Fódlan—a life under the yoke of the Church—their answers would mean little. From all I’ve seen, this Askr is quite the idyllic kingdom. Barring some deep conspiracy lurking in the shadows, and putting aside the external threats, its people seem entirely content with the royalty’s leadership.”

“That’s true,” Micaiah sighed. “I suppose all we can do is trust in our instincts and… hope they help our people.” She put her empty teacup down and stood up. “Thank you for the tea—and for the talk. I’m glad to have found someone like you here in this land, for as strange as these circumstances are.”

She offered Edelgard her hand. It was the one marked with the brand, still uncovered from when she’d shown it to her before. Edelgard stood to meet her, then grasped it firmly and shook.

“Thank you again, Queen Micaiah. I’m glad of it too.”

“Call me Micaiah, please,” she said, smiling.

Edelgard nodded. “Then you may call me Edelgard, Or, if you’d prefer—”

She hesitated. No, it was far too soon for that name. She’d already spoken much more openly with Micaiah than she would have with most, but it was best to keep things professional. For now, at least.

“…Actually, just Edelgard is fine.”

Micaiah quirked an eyebrow at her hesitation, but bowed her head. “Edelgard it is, then. It’s been a pleasure.”

She turned and left the room, and Edelgard sat back down for a moment. She still had some tea left in her cup, though it had gone cold by now. She’d been so engrossed in her conversation that she’d forgotten all about it.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. How often did that happen? Even back home with the professor, back in those distant days of the Academy, she’d at least usually made it through her cup.

Her thoughts lingered on Micaiah. She reminded her of Lysithea, who had become one of her closest advisors just prior to arriving in Askr—not just in her looks, which were strikingly similar, but in her Brand: a curse she’d been burdened with, just like the Crests Edelgard and Lysithea bore.

The thought of those Crests—of her Crests—filled her with a sudden melange of sadness and anger. A flicker of those experiments performed on her, long suppressed, ran through her mind. The chilling screams of her siblings as they were picked apart, the agony suspended in the air around her, a hand on her shoulder…

She took a deep breath, shaking her head. Now wasn’t the time to dredge on bad memories. Getting emotional like that would just leave her vulnerable—and Micaiah had wanted her to fight for love’s sake, not for revenge.

Micaiah. There she was in Edelgard’s thoughts again: her face, her smile, her words of comfort.

She was quite pretty. The sort of pretty that didn’t fade from memory. The sort of pretty that she could see herself getting lost in. She intrigued Edelgard, too. A queen, just beginning to learn of her station and the power it entailed, yet willing to both listen and give advice in equal measure.

She felt oddly drawn to her. Maybe it was the similarities between them; maybe Edelgard saw something she recognised in her. Whatever it was, there was a certain appeal that… she didn’t dislike.

Edelgard glanced down at the table and saw a flash of pink beneath Micaiah’s cup. She’d left her glove behind—forgotten it in the moment, probably. The empress picked it up, looking at the delicate fabric for a moment. It was incredibly soft, like petals crushed into the finest silk, light and airy to the touch.

Hesitantly, she balled it up into her fist and took a sniff. It smelt faintly of peonies, perhaps from lotion or soap. The smell wasn’t overpowering, though it was noticeable enough if she concentrated.

The door creaked ajar, and she quickly put the glove on the table, burying it beneath her hands. She’d expected to see Micaiah. Instead, it was another familiar face.

“Hubert,” she said, oddly relieved. “How long have you been standing there?”

He, at the very least, had been summoned to Askr around the same time as her, though Edelgard hadn’t yet determined if he was from her past or future.

“Long enough to hear the particulars of your conversation with Queen Micaiah.” Hubert walked fully into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. “Your Majesty, are you sure this is wise?”

“Wise, Hubert?”

“Talking too much with other rulers,” he said. “You risk concerning yourself with the politics of worlds irrelevant to our own. The broad strokes may be similar, yes… but without them understanding the delicate nuances of Fódlan’s circumstances, their advice is a waste of your precious time at best—and misleading at worst.”

“I recall asking you not to listen in on my private conversations,” Edelgard said. “And far from being misleading, my conversation was a fruitful one. If we’re to create a better world, I need to be certain of my reasons for fighting.”

“To be certain? You told her you would refuse to err from your goal, only to then list a multitude of reasons why you might err. These conversations can hardly be ‘fruitful’ if they only bring you to question your own ideals. And, if I might comment on her sickening romanticism for a moment… revenge is a perfectly potent motivator. We seek to destroy Seiros and her faithful, not win them over with love.”

“I understand what we ‘seek’, Hubert. These past six years have all been in service of one goal, and I mean to see that goal to its fruition.”

“I wouldn't dare question it, Your Majesty. But I still insist that there is little to gain from filling your mind with the advice of sovereigns from distant worlds. Your strength as Empress, might I say, comes from your steadfast commitment to your dream. If you allow that commitment to waver, or be swayed by the words of others… then you risk a moment of weakness, or worse still, an irreparable crack. And when we are back in Fódlan, with all the irritating distractions of this world behind us, the Church may well exploit that weakness.”

“Is that your advice, then? Shut myself off from those like Queen Micaiah?”

“If that is what it takes to keep you focused and determined, then yes. It is imperative for us to achieve our victory.”

Edelgard stood up again, giving Hubert a stony stare. He looked back at her, his expression unyielding.

“Your counsel is appreciated, Hubert. But on this account, I shall decide what is best. I will speak with Micaiah, and others like her, when I see fit. If their advice is ever foolish, I will tell them as much. You, however, need not concern yourself with this matter.”

He sighed, but inclined his head to her.

“As you say, Your Majesty. Let us hope I am wrong, then—for Fódlan’s sake.”

Hubert left as quietly as he’d entered, and Edelgard cast a glance back towards Micaiah’s glove, still resting on the table.

With any luck, she’d remember to come and collect it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just pretend for a moment that timeskip Hubert is in Heroes.


	2. The First Rays of Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and Micaiah take comfort in each other's company.

The gardens of Gyldarskor were among one of the strangest areas hidden away in the vast halls of the Askran royal family’s castle: a labyrinthe arrangement of plants made up of endless rows and quadrants, each curated to perfection and carefully regulated with different temperatures. It was also a lovely place to take walks, even as very few heroes seemed aware of its existence, or thought of it as anything more than a storeroom for supplies. In all honesty, Edelgard had paid it very little mind herself—until she’d seen Micaiah descending the steps. It was only when she’d followed at a distance that she was taken, for the first time, by Gyldarskor’s beauty.

“These gardens are incredible,” Micaiah said. “It’s hard to believe such a beautiful place could thrive beneath the castle.”

“It is quite surprising, isn’t it?” Edelgard said. “From what I understand, it’s a source for rare herbs that don’t usually grow in the Askran climate. White magic can only go so far, so it’s reassuring to see that the Order of Heroes understands the value of medicinal remedies.” She paused, looking around at all the different plants—blue ferns, red foxgloves, even purple orchids that may have been planted simply for their appeal. “It’s not too far removed from the greenhouse we had at the Officer’s Academy. The smell is… strangely nostalgic.”

Once again, conversation came easily to them. The moments of silence were enjoyable rather than strained, and every word they shared held meaning beyond simple pleasantries. It was a meeting of minds, a sharing of experiences between two rulers, and they were glad for each other’s company.

Micaiah’s gaze drifted from plant to plant, her eyes half-lidded and a faint smile on her face. She held a hand over one of the plants, a strange herb with red and green leaves, and gently took a leaf between her fingers, letting it brush against her glove. In the end, she’d returned for the glove just a few minutes after Edelgard’s discussion with Hubert. Edelgard had been surprised Micaiah hadn’t noticed it missing sooner, but she’d seemed oddly distracted when she came to retrieve it.

“I was hoping you might indulge me with a personal question, Micaiah. Do you mind?”

“I don’t mind,” she said, still looking at the leaf in her hand. “We’ve already opened our hearts to one another far more than I’d anticipated.”

“You left your glove in my room the other day. Given that Brand’s significance to you—all the pain it brings—I would have expected you to have paid more mind to the fact it was uncovered. Yet it took you almost a quarter of an hour to realise you’d misplaced it with me. Were you… distracted? Thinking about other matters?”

“Yes… I suppose I was,” Micaiah said. “Our conversation had me thinking about a lot of things. Ideals, self-sacrifice, the different forms of unjust systems… The sort of concepts I’ve spent years grappling with, but never really had a chance to discuss with anyone. With you, though, it was like…” She bit her lip softly. “I don’t know. It was like I’d found a piece of myself that I didn’t even know was missing.”

Edelgard nodded, smiling gently. “I felt the same way.”

“You did?”

“I still do.”

Micaiah’s eyes closed, and she breathed deeply. Her cheeks reddened slightly, and a faint smile grew on her lips.

“That’s good to hear. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

Her fingers slipped away from the leaf, and the smile faded.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” she said. “Leadership. I was born royalty, but I’ve spent all my life helping people by myself. In person. I don’t know the first thing about policy, or taxation, or social reform. And I suppose I won’t even be in much of a position to simply walk the streets as I’ve done for so long.” She sighed. “Is it the same for you, Edelgard? Do you feel as though you’ve had to forsake something to assume this role?”

“Forsake something, hm…? Well, there’s the obvious—my reputation with the Church of Seiros, and all those others who… rallied against my cause. But I assume you speak of more personal matters.” Edelgard looked out over the gardens as Micaiah turned towards her. “I have lost someone precious to me, but I made my peace with that years ago. Besides that… well, it must sound quite trifling, but I do miss my free time. Governing a nation while spearheading its war effort is a time-consuming endeavour, to put it lightly. Even a day without a battle is an exhausting exercise in oversight and administration. The shortest meetings over the most trivial matters feel endless, while a day of battle is a day without any rest at all.”

She met Micaiah’s gaze again, feeling her expression go soft.

“But, if I’m honest… there is something else. It probably comes off as quite dramatic, but I sometimes wonder if I’ve forsaken my humanity to walk this path.”

Micaiah raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“If I’m to win this war, then I have to forge ahead—no matter what happens. I have to give orders to attack even when a battle seems dire, or even hopeless. The cost of lives weighs so heavily on me after every battle, but I can’t allow it to affect me. No matter how much it hurts, I can’t let compassion cripple my resolve.” She closed her eyes. “If that’s not forsaking some part of my humanity, then what is it?”

She heard Micaiah shift, and felt her hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see her standing closer, wearing a soft smile.

“You’re not a heartless monster, Edelgard. You’re the exact opposite. The weight of every life you’ve lost—you carry it all on your shoulders. You care about their lives, even if you never knew most of them personally. There’s not a battle I fought for Daein where I didn’t come out of it with regrets; hours spent awake at night wondering if I’d made the right calls, if the deaths I’d seen that day were avoidable. You’re a living, feeling person who mourns the dead. It doesn’t make you any less of a good leader, or any less of… anyone.”

Edelgard stared back at her. “I… Thank you, Micaiah.”

Silence hung over them for a moment—just silence. Edelgard’s eyes wandered over the girl in front of her, taking in the sight of her. Micaiah was quite beautiful. She wondered if she was just imagining the faint blush of red in her cheeks.

Finally, her hand slid off her shoulder.

“Let’s have more of a look around,” she said. “It feels as if we could wander these gardens for hours and only see a portion of it.”

Truth be told, Edelgard was glad no-one else seemed to come down here. Certainly, Hubert was skulking about somewhere, keeping a close watch on her new friend against her instructions, but besides the odd alchemist or physician visiting to collect some herbs, they were given the gardens almost entirely to themselves.

They passed under a stone archway, strolling down a cobbled path that led between hedgerows of evergreen and summer shrubs. It was easy to forget they were even underground: the plants snaked up the walls and even grew to cover portions of the ceiling, and the air was crisp and fresh. The faint sounds of dripping moisture didn’t carry the oppressive weight of a dungeon, but rather the soothing ambience of a cistern.

“Look at this one,” Micaiah said, kneeling down beside another red plant—a flower, this time. “It’s just… so beautiful. I’ve never seen its like. No sunlight, no nutrients, yet it’s thriving down here alongside all sorts of fungus and moss. Whoever works these gardens must have a true gift.”

Edelgard looked at the flower. It had grown remarkably well, given the circumstances, but she felt it seemed a little lonely. Like a candle in the darkness, struggling to stay alight. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was really a gardener’s intervention or just sheer luck that allowed it to bloom. Perhaps half a dozen similar flowers laid dead and buried in the earth around it, and they could only see the survivor.

Micaiah ran a finger along the stem, careful not to disturb it. The faintest smile played at her lips, then she stood again.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s leave it to enjoy the peace and quiet.”

After a few more paces, Micaiah spoke up again.

“Edelgard—could I ask _you_ a question? A personal one, I mean.”

“Of course,” Edelgard said, turning to face her as they walked.

“It’s… Well, it may sound a little silly. It’s about your hair.”

Edelgard felt a lump catch in her throat.

“Where I come from, white’s an unusual colour,” Micaiah continued, not quite meeting her eye. “Unnatural, even. I’m wondering if… Well, I’d like to know how you came to have white hair—if it’s not natural, I mean.”

“How about you, Micaiah? How did you get yours?”

She smiled weakly. “Answering a question with a question… Very well.”

She came to halt, and Edelgard stopped beside her.

“For me, it’s my Brand. Those of us with beorc and laguz blood tend to have abnormal appearances like this. A quality inherited from the laguz, I think.”

She sighed, looking towards the ground.

“But that’s not all we inherit from them. We also take their longer lifespans. We hold onto our youth and experience more than most… but in exchange, we have to watch those we care about grow old without us. Their hairs will grey, while mine will stay as white as ever.”

“…How strange. Once again, my Crests and your Brand bear entirely opposite effects—but the suffering they bring us is the same.”

Micaiah looked at her. “Opposite…? Wait—do you mean…?”

“My circumstances are slightly unusual, even for Crest-bearers… but yes, I think you understand. My lifespan is shortened. Perhaps quite significantly, though I may never know the extent of it until it’s too late. Maybe death’s blade will even come for me the day I return home.”

Micaiah’s hands found hers, gripping her firmly. Her palms were clammy and quivered slightly, betraying her otherwise stoic expression.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice wavering. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have—”

Edelgard stopped her, squeezing her hand in return.

“Micaiah, please. It’s quite alright. It’s true that I don’t like to talk about it, but it serves me well as a reminder. This, too, is a consequence of Crests. If they’re content to take my future, then I have no qualms taking their influence in return.”

She laughed: a dry, humourless noise.

“A shortened lifespan, or a lengthened one…? To die before your friends grow old, or to watch them grow old and die? I can’t decide which is worse.”

She turned to face Micaiah, and found her eyes glistening. Her hands were still around hers, squeezing tightly, and only now did she release them.

“Why…?” she whispered. “What in the world could you have done to deserve such a fate?”

Edelgard opened her mouth, then hesitated. It was painful to talk about. Almost too painful. But Micaiah had a right to know.

“When I was young,” Edelgard explained, “me and my siblings were subjected to a horrific series of… ‘experiments’. We were pried open by monsters in human form, who saw us only as vessels for Crest experimentation. By the end of their labours, I bore a second Crest… but I was the only one to survive. Or to survive fully intact, at the very least. My hair lost its colour, my lifespan drew decades shorter, and my body… Well, I’m still carrying the scars.”

“They did that to you?” Micaiah asked, horrified. “How… why…?”

“I suspect they wanted a powerful puppet. The nobles in your sister’s country manipulated to you to similar effect, did they not? I think they see us—Crest-bearers and Branded alike—as no better than weapons for their wars. Anyone they believe they can control, they will. But we won’t act as their slaves. We won’t be puppets.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Edelgard. I didn’t know.”

Edelgard put her hand on Micaiah’s cheek, gently stroking it with her thumb.

“It’s fine, Micaiah. All that matters is that we show those who seek to twist our good intentions for their own ends that they hold no power over us. It’s another burden of leadership—mustering the strength to oppose them—but for our people’s sake, it has to be done. I’m sure you’ll still face no shortage of belligerent nobility, even if your world is finally at peace.”

Micaiah nodded. “Yes… I understand.”

She was quiet for a moment, looking into Edelgard’s eyes. Edelgard tried to smile, but found it difficult. There was something about her expression: not pity, not sympathy, but a deep sadness. The sort she hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

“I’d do anything to take your pain away.”

Micaiah’s words were barely more than a whisper, but the empty air picked them up and carried them into Edelgard’s ear. The moment stretched on as she tried to read the emotion in the queen’s eyes. Regret? Longing? Was she talking about her scars, or something else entirely?

“You know,” Edelgard said, “I’ve never liked the underground. It reminds me of all the dungeons they kept us in… the damp, cold walls; the smell of rot and the stagnant air; the cloying darkness… So many awful things that all threaten to come rushing back whenever I descend down into the earth. But for some reason, I feel fine here. At first, I thought it might have been the plants. They’re all so numerous, so fascinating. I could lose myself in them for hours. But I think I’ve realised… it’s something else.”

She wiped a tear from Micaiah’s cheek with her thumb, managing a full smile at last. The warmth in Micaiah’s eyes returned tenfold, and her face was once again soft and open. She reached up to her face, taking Edelgard’s resting hand in hers and intertwining their fingers.

“Thank you,” she said, “for sharing your pain with me.”

“Thank you for accepting it,” Edelgard replied. “It’s strange, in a way. I’ve fought alongside my former classmates for over five years now, but save for my closest advisor—and many years ago, my professor—I’ve never discussed everything so thoroughly before. Maybe I feel… a kinship. We’re cursed by forces beyond our control, but we rose out of the darkest places and waged wars in service of all that we hold dear. Maybe together, we can… find some peace.”

“I’d like that, Edelgard. Very much so.”

Edelgard’s hand was still on her face, still wrapped around her own hand.

It was an intimate moment. She wasn’t sure if it was just the bond between them, or something else that drove it. Something deeper. The way Micaiah’s gaze held her, the way her lips parted ever so slightly, the way her chest moved as she breathed…

Maybe she was just reading too much into things. Maybe Micaiah was just a caring, empathetic person who wanted to help her with her pain. She built attachments so easily with people she saw herself in—people like the professor—only to rush things too quickly and turn earnest admiration into infatuation and obsession. Maybe that’s all this was.

Maybe.

But maybe, just maybe…

“What are you thinking about?” Micaiah asked, her eyes dancing between Edelgard’s own.

“I’m…”

Edelgard’s voice caught in her throat. She did her best to steady herself, but her thoughts betrayed her.

She leaned in, pressing her forehead against Micaiah’s and closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. She didn’t step back, or push her away.

“I’m thinking about you,” she said. Her voice was low, stronger than a whisper but confidential all the same. “You make me feel… comfortable, Micaiah. Safe, even. When I’m with you, I don’t worry. Even when darkness tries to close in all around me and fill my head with doubts, you’ve shown me the light out of that darkness.”

Did Micaiah understand what she was trying to say? She didn’t quite understand it herself, but it felt right. This moment, this closeness—she could have stayed here forever and never wanted for anything else.

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard said suddenly, feeling her cheeks flush the same shade as her dress. “I’m saying such strange things today. Maybe I’m simply feeling emotional from our talk.”

“It’s okay. I feel the same way, Edelgard.”

Edelgard opened her eyes and saw Micaiah’s fixed on her. The warmth of her attention set her heart racing.

“Whenever I’m with you… I feel stronger. I’ve been so nervous about ruling Daein when I return home, about providing for my people and making the right decisions. But even when you waver, or doubt your humanity, or question your true intentions towards Crests and the nobility, your determination never stops burning. I want to be a ruler like that… someone who keeps going even when things seem hopeless. Someone who would sacrifice anything for their people.”

Her hand tightened around Edelgard’s, and her other hand found itself on the empress’s cheek. Edelgard leaned into it, and Micaiah gave her the slightest of smiles.

“I know you’ll be a wonderful ruler,” Edelgard said. “You’ve listened to me. You understand my pain, and my purpose. But so long as we try—so long as we never give up—we can always transform the pain we’ve felt throughout our lives into something beautiful. A new dawn for our people. And for ourselves.”

Micaiah looked at her with something approaching reverence.

“Yes,” she said simply. “That’s what we’ll do. For Daein, and for Fódlan.”

She hesitated, still staring into her.

“Edelgard…” she murmured. “I want to be just like you.”

Slowly, naturally, their lips came together.

Micaiah’s kiss was soft and sweet, bringing life and light like the first rays of dawn upon a scorched forest. For a moment, Edelgard forgot herself—forgot who she was, where they were. For that one perfect moment, it was just her and Micaiah.

When they finally parted, she saw a faint gleam in Micaiah’s eyes.

“Oh, dear,” Micaiah said, giggling nervously. “I think I’ve gone and let myself fall in love with you. How silly of me…”

Edelgard felt her own face grow warm, and she returned the laugh. A clear, genuine laugh. It’d been so long since she’d had one of those.

“I think I’ve fallen for you, too,” she said.

Micaiah nodded eagerly, and they both flashed a grin at each other before their lips met again. Edelgard had never known she could feel like this—never imagined anything could make her feel this free.

In that moment, she realised that maybe—just maybe—her life in the shadows was over.

* * *

True to his word the previous night, Hubert had left Edelgard to her own devices. He’d done as the Order asked of him, saw to their tedious chores with the utmost effort, and silently evaluated the threat the Askran royalty presented to his Empress—should they have ever felt the inclination, for whatever reason, to turn against her.

Yes, he had kept his word. But keeping his word did not make him blind; and when he saw Edelgard walking up from the gardens with Queen Micaiah, hand in hand and faces flushed, he knew exactly what it meant. This, more than anything else, was what he’d truly feared. She had cast her mind from the gruelling battle to come and indulged in a fleeting moment of solace. She’d lost her focus.

She had, in a sense, accepted her fate.

He’d kept up pretences to the best of his abilities; convinced the Edelgard here in Askr that he was of her world, that they were fighting the same war. But it wasn’t so. In his world, the Black Eagle Strike Force had been coordinating an attack on Fhirdiad. A final assault to destroy the vile Immaculate One once and for all.

But in her world, the armies of Seiros were marching on Enbarr. And the professor, so dear to her and so loyal to their cause in his own world, was leading the charge. She believed, in their conversations, that she could seize a decisive victory within the capital; that the professor might even see reason. Hubert did not doubt her strength… but he knew first-hand what she would be facing. After five years of absence, the professor’s contributions had turned his world’s stalemate into a decisive advantage for the Empire. By his assessment, a last-ditch stand in Enbarr meant that this Edelgard’s situation truly was at its worst. She had unexpected allies on her side: Lysithea von Ordelia, who had similarly turned to their cause in his world, as well as Sylvain Jose Gautier, disillusioned by his brother’s mistreatment and abandonment by the Crest System. But against the professor, they wouldn’t be enough.

Perhaps that was why she took such an interest in Queen Micaiah. Perhaps one broken-hearted obsession with the professor had led to another in turn, desperate to fill the void left by their absence. Or perhaps she knew her days were numbered, and only sought to impart her wisdom and values onto a leader with a brighter future before they were lost to time.

Hubert sighed. Her happiness, in the end, was not his to tamper with. But after so many years in her service, it was difficult to shake such a sense of powerless foreboding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever said this was a story about Crimson Flower’s Edelgard?


	3. The Peace in Her Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indulging their emotions, Edelgard and Micaiah share a lasting moment of passion.

That night, Askr’s usual tranquillity was disturbed by a long, violent storm. A torrent of rain battered the windows, striking with all the force of hailstones, while wind lashed the wooden framing and howled through the cracks. Lightning flashed in the distance, and thunder rumbled like the ever-approaching march of an army.

In Edelgard’s room, however, the storms were a distant thought—drowned out by the high, sweet sounds of kisses and sighs.

A single candle burned atop the bedside table. Shadows flickered on the walls, imitating the shape of Micaiah as she straddled Edelgard’s lap, holding the empress’s head in her hands and gently kissing her. Edelgard moved her hand to her back, slowly caressing her, and she let out a contented moan. Micaiah’s cloak, still fastened around her chest by a pretty emerald, fell like a blanket around Edelgard’s arms, while the white rim of her dress brushed her leggings.

Neither of them could quite remember how they’d ended up here; what precise series of events had led them up to Edelgard’s room, towards her bed, to such intimacy in each other’s arms. But their conversation in the gardens had awakened feelings of deep-rooted admiration, and now they let passion guide them, thinking only of the moment they shared together, this brief pause in time where they were allowed to indulge themselves.

They understood each other. They felt safe with each other. They had learned so much from each other, taken comfort in the words they’d shared, the advice and guidance they’d imparted. Edelgard had been reassured of her humanity, reminded of what she fought for and why she’d dedicated all these years to the eradication of Crests. Micaiah had been inspired by the strength of Edelgard’s resolve, of the way she knew precisely what she wanted for her people and would sacrifice everything she had to attain her ideal world. They had seen the suffering wrought by unjust systems, and were united in their determination to end them.

Yes, they were cursed. But here in Askr, even if it wouldn’t last forever, they could shoulder those curses together.

Illuminated in the candlelight, Micaiah’s pale hair shone like gold, and her wide, radiant eyes gazed down into Edelgard’s. This close, Edelgard noticed faint traces of freckles across the bridge of her nose, too subtle to have ever been noticed from a distance, and with each passing moment she felt her heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings in her chest. She broke away from the kiss, holding Micaiah close and pressing her lips to her neck. Micaiah let out a cute gasp as she nuzzled against her, and she felt the queen’s fingers twine in her hair. It was the first time she’d ever let it down for Micaiah, who enjoyed playing with the long white strands. She smelled the same as her glove—that wonderful scent of peonies so delicately perfuming her skin—and Edelgard’s face, nestled against her neck, was drenched in her aroma.

“Edelgard…” Micaiah sighed, “I don’t want this night to end…”

Edelgard smiled and tightened her embrace, kissing her collar.

“There’s still plenty of hours until dawn,” she whispered. “Let’s make the most of them.”

The storm raged relentlessly outside, but in here, nothing could touch them, or hurt them, or spoil this perfect moment. After so many years of war, their hearts felt at rest.

Edelgard looked back up at Micaiah, drinking in her soft beauty, her form against the light, her radiance in the dark. Slowly, she moved her hands to the clasp of her cloak, feeling at the emerald.

“This is beautiful,” she said. “Is it a family heirloom?”

“My sister presented me with it as a gift for my coronation… I suppose it may hold some significance to the Begnion imperial family, but I never thought to ask. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

Edelgard nodded, smiling. “Even if it’s only a simple gift, you’re fortunate to have such a considerate sister. To have such a family…”

She paused, feeling a touch of longing, but kept her smile for Micaiah.

“Promise me you’ll treasure connections like that, Micaiah. Cherish your friends of family, and don’t let the ravages of politics divide you.”

“…I promise.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Edelgard’s hands moved around to the back of the emerald, finding the golden clasp holding the cloak together. She looked up at Micaiah, who gave her a nod.

With a gentle tug, the clasp came undone, and the cloak fell to the ground around Edelgard’s feet. She could see Micaiah’s shoulders more fully now, caressed by the candlelight—so soft and delicate, even as they bore faint reminders of injuries from battle. She pulled at her detached sleeves, drawing them down her arms and dropping them by the foot of the bed, and ran her hands along Micaiah’s gloves. For just a moment, she felt Micaiah stiffen and hesitate as one of her hands moved across the hidden Brand.

“It’s okay,” Edelgard whispered. “You can show yourself to me. You’ve done so before.”

“I-I know. It’s just… Sometimes, it feels like such a blemish on my skin. Especially when we’re like this…”

“You said that it was a symbol of unity, yes? That in your ideal world, you’d want to celebrate them.” She held Micaiah’s Branded hand, running a finger along the top of her glove. “Then please, don’t be ashamed of it. Let it stand for this unity between us—between Daein and all of Fódlan. Let that, if nothing else, be a cause worthy of celebration.”

Micaiah looked at Edelgard’s hand drifting across her wrist. She swallowed, then nodded and smiled.

“Thank you,” Edelgard said. She drew each of Micaiah’s gloves off, then took her right hand, turning it over to look at her Brand. The purple colour shimmered in the orange light, and though it certainly it seemed unnatural against her white skin, the pattern was stunning. She raised the hand to her lips, kissing it, and Micaiah shuddered.

“Be proud of who you are. If Brands cause only suffering in your world by what they represent, as the Crest system causes suffering through inequality in mine, then fight to rid them of that harmful meaning. Foster unity and understanding between your people, and teach them to face the new world together…”

More than anything, Edelgard’s words came from a place of regret. An understanding that if she faltered at Enbarr, her dream would die forever—and the tyranny of Crests would be perpetuated once more across Fódlan. But she couldn’t let Micaiah see that side of her: not here, not like this. Not when Micaiah still had all the time in the world to make things right for her own people.

“Yes…” Micaiah whispered, still blushing from the kiss placed on her hand. “I will, Edelgard. I will…”

There was a second garment still laced around her dress, and Edelgard loosened the purple threads holding it together, drawing it off her.

A breath caught in her throat as she took Micaiah in. There wasn’t much left now: her circlet, her sandals, her dress. Even for all the lies the Church of Seiros had spun, all the pain they’d quietly inflicted on the people of Fódlan, Edelgard couldn’t help but think that Micaiah looked saintly: a figure far worthier of worship than any of the vaunted Four Saints. She was too beautiful for words, and the gentle smile she gave Edelgard all but stopped the empress’s heart.

“Micaiah… you’re…”

She searched for the words, but none felt adequate. Instead, she let another kiss speak for her. Micaiah cupped her cheeks as she pushed her lips against Edelgard’s, moaning into her mouth. Nervously, her tongue brushed against Edelgard’s lips, and she gladly opened her mouth to let Micaiah in. Her taste was like honeyed wine, and Edelgard lost herself in it as Micaiah twined her tongue around hers. She felt Micaiah’s hands fumbling with her red dress, trying to figure out all its intricacies, but she made little progress. Her cheeks and ears flushed, increasingly embarrassed, and in the haze of their pleasure, Edelgard found her adorable.

“Here,” she whispered. “Let me help you with that.”

She took Micaiah’s hands in hers, steadying them, and slowly began to undo each button for her, guiding her towards all the clasps and hidden hooks. It was a clumsy business at first, but she got the hang of soon enough. She found the last clasp on her own, reaching around behind Edelgard’s falling hair, and as she popped it open Edelgard shrugged out of the heavy garment, leaving her in only a loose undershirt and tights. For the first time, Micaiah was allowed access to the skin beneath her regalia, and she ran her hands down her shoulders and along her arms. Edelgard took her by the wrists, gently coaxing her into removing the shirt, and as the queen’s fingers brushed against her belly, a sharp sensation ran through her. Even now, she could feel ripples of the past haunting her; trying to cause her pain. But not this time. Not tonight. And certainly not at Micaiah’s hands.

As Micaiah drew the shirt off Edelgard, she let out a small gasp.

“E-Edelgard… Your chest…”

She looked down at the stitched-up scars running from the empress’s breasts down to her waist, criss-crossing all across her body like cracks in stone. Her fingers ran along them slowly, as if afraid she’d break her, and Edelgard shivered.

“Do they hurt?” Micaiah asked nervously, looking up into her eyes.

Edelgard shook her head. “Only in what they represent. It’s where those monsters picked me apart—where their experiments left their marks. It hurts to look at, sometimes, but…” She paused, smiling softly. “…But with you here, it doesn’t hurt as much.”

Micaiah leaned in to kiss her again. Her hands traced over Edelgard’s bare skin, warm as sunlight on a spring day. Her lips and fingertips worked in tandem, comforting and caressing her skin, and she began to push Edelgard down onto the bed, never breaking liplock. Her hair spilled over Edelgard’s chest and shoulders, surrounding her in a curtain of white tinged with gold as their lips finally parted.

Edelgard was almost reluctant to remove Micaiah’s dress—to rob her of that saintly grace—but she wanted to feel all of her. She ran her arms down her back, feeling for the clasp of her dress. When she found it, she looked up into her eyes.

“May I?” she asked.

Micaiah nodded, smiling, and Edelgard undid the dress. Micaiah gently leaned back to pull it off her shoulders, discarding it at the foot of the bed with all the other clothing. The sight of her in nothing but her thin bra and circlet took Edelgard’s breath away. She’d never seen anyone so wonderful in all her life. 

“Keep this on,” she said, running a finger along the circlet’s golden band. “It suits you.”

“It’s rather ornate for a queen to wear in bed,” Micaiah giggled. “But if you like it, then so be it. I’ll wear it just for you, Edelgard.”

She moved down, brushing her fingers along Edelgard’s scars again before going even lower. Edelgard shuddered as her hair tickled her waist, and watched as she began to tug at the rim of her tights. She lifted her hips, letting Micaiah pull them down, and at last she had her free of all her clothing. Micaiah’s head hovered between her legs, and her golden eyes glanced up at her.

“I, um… I’ve never actually…” she said.

“I’ll guide you,” Edelgard replied, gently resting her hands on Micaiah’s head. “You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

Reassured, Micaiah slowly parted Edelgard’s legs, staring at her womanhood in awe for a moment. Then, testing the waters, her tongue ran up the length of her slit. Edelgard shuddered, feeling her hands tighten around Micaiah’s head: it was a strange, unfamiliar sensation, but an incredible one. With her confidence building, Micaiah began to lap more eagerly at her slit, drawing slow, gentle motions that sent sparks through Edelgard’s body. She felt every ounce of Micaiah’s admiration for her coming through in her strokes: every flick of her tongue sought Edelgard’s approval, and every sigh escaping her lips conveyed her joy at bringing her pleasure. While Edelgard did her best to lead her with her hands, she proved more than capable of working out what the empress liked by herself—she was a quick study, and eager to please.

Edelgard had never had someone love her like this before. It was possible she’d never have the chance to find someone like her again.

She thought of the future that stretched out before her in Fódlan; the road clouded by fog, where nothing—not even her survival—was certain. When the fog cleared, she hoped a miraculous sunrise would await her on the horizon. But until then, she had Micaiah. She had tonight. No matter what the darkness held, she’d hold the memories of this moment close to her heart as she braved it. This girl—this ‘priestess of dawn’—would be the light guiding her towards a new dawn of her own. 

She let go of Micaiah’s head, letting her guide her into the night. Her hair fell over Edelgard’s legs, her warm breath tingled on her thighs. Edelgard moaned out as Micaiah’s tongue stroked her, clutching at the bedsheets.

Micaiah paused, eyes flickering up. “Does it feel good?”

Edelgard nodded vigorously. “Please don’t stop.”

She redoubled her efforts, and Edelgard could feel every inch of her body tingling with pleasure. One of Micaiah’s fingers—slick and cool—teased at her entrance, gently pressing in as she gasped.

“You’re doing well,” Edelgard said. “It’s wonderful, Micaiah…”

Micaiah worked her finger in and out, curling it inside her. Her other hand gently massaged Edelgard’s clitoris, sending shockwaves through her body with every motion. Edelgard felt her hair stand on end, and her muscles started to seize up as a searing hot feeling rushed through her. She shuddered, and her head pressed back into the pillow as she started to convulse. But Micaiah didn’t let up. Every move she made was steeped in love and affection, her hands moving as if they were made just for Edelgard. The empress closed her eyes and saw the darkness ahead shatter into a million pieces as light washed over her, and a series of loud, guttural moans escaped her lips as she came harder than she’d ever done before. Her body twitched and trembled under Micaiah’s touch, who finally drew her finger out.

Edelgard gasped, feeling the last remnants of her ecstasy fading, and Micaiah moved up beside her. As they kissed, Micaiah let Edelgard taste herself on her breath.

“Edelgard…” Micaiah whispered in her ear. “Was that to your liking?”

“I’ve never felt so happy in all my years. Thank you, Micaiah.” She pushed a strand of Micaiah’s hair behind her ear, and Micaiah nuzzled into her touch.

“It’s the least I can do. You’ve endured so much in your life… So much pain, so much sadness. I said I’d do anything to take it away, but… I can only ease it.”

“You’re not so free of troubles yourself,” Edelgard said, “yet even now, after all the manipulation and injustices you’ve suffered, you’ve only been thinking about me. If I were a citizen of Daein, I’d be proud to call you my queen. Any nation should be lucky to have such a pure-hearted ruler.”

She smiled, blushing, and Edelgard put a hand to her cheek, returning the smile.

“Could you… call me ‘El’?” she asked. “If it doesn’t sound too strange…”

Micaiah blinked at her. “El?”

“It’s… what those closest to me used to call me. These days, I’m Empress Edelgard to everyone. There’s precious little room for affection in an imperial address. But… if you were to use it, even only in private… I think I’d be okay with that.”

For a moment, Micaiah stared into her. Then, her smile widened.

“It’d be my honour… El.”

Hearing it in her voice, spoken so softly and earnestly, sent indescribable emotions through Edelgard’s heart. She pulled her close, embracing her, then sat up, drawing her up in her arms.

“You’ve worked so hard for me tonight,” she said. “Let me take care of you for a while.”

Micaiah blushed again, looking away.

“That’s… not necessary. “Simply making you happy is joy enough for me…”

Edelgard reached for her chin, drawing her gaze back towards her and smiling softly.

“Allow me this token of affection, Micaiah. We have to be ready to sacrifice our happiness for our loved ones and our people, yes, but it’s important that we also allow ourselves some moments of respite… even in the storm.”

She drew closer, causing Micaiah’s blush to deepen.

“Here with me, you can be selfish. So tell me what you’d really like. What you _want_.”

At last, Micaiah relented.

“I want… I want us to feel good together.”

Edelgard smiled. “Then so we shall.” She sat back, putting the slightest bit of distance between herself and Micaiah. “Wrap your legs around mine. I’d like to try something.”

Micaiah obeyed, hooking her legs around Edelgard’s waist, and the empress drew her up against her. Their clits touched for just a moment, sending a volley of sensation through their bodies.

“Ah…!” Micaiah gasped. “That feels…”

“…Incredible,” Edelgard said, suppressing a shudder. “Are you ready?”

“Yes… I am.”

Slowly, the two of them started to grind against each other. Micaiah bit her lip, but let out a long, low moan of pleasure. They moved in a slow rhythm, letting excitement build up inside them at a steady pace. Edelgard could feel Micaiah getting wetter with every motion, and the slickness between them only increased the sensations tenfold. She started to move faster, and Micaiah matched her motions, whining as she rubbed herself against her. Her body started to shudder, and her fingernails dug into Edelgard’s shoulders as she broke into a second moan. Her grip tightened as she released repeatedly, her fluids soaking Edelgard’s legs, but Edelgard wasn’t done. She leaned forward, capturing Micaiah’s mouth in a long kiss. Their tongues danced and writhed around each other as Edelgard’s hands slid down Micaiah’s back, fingertips grazing her skin and sliding along the indents of her spine until she came to cup her buttocks.

Micaiah broke the kiss, her voice barely a whisper.

“Y-yes…” she sighed. “Right there… Harder…”

Edelgard gave her bottom a gentle squeeze, then gripped it more firmly, using it to push their hips together with an even greater passion. The pace was almost impossibly fast now, and Micaiah’s body started to go limp, her arms sliding up and around Edelgard’s neck as she held on for dear life. Her breathing grew faster and faster as Edelgard continued to grind against her, and the empress could feel her entire body quivering.

“I… can’t…” she panted. “I’m… I’m going to…!”

Edelgard nodded, pushing hard against her as she felt her own release approaching.

“Micaiah… Let’s come together… as one!”

“El…! El!”

They both let out a cry as they reached their peaks. Edelgard’s fingers curled into the flesh of her hips, and she felt Micaiah sink into her shoulder in the sweet agony of release. Their bodies shuddered as the moments passed, and Edelgard sighed contentedly, drawing Micaiah close against her.

“That was… I’ve never experienced anything like it,” Micaiah whispered. “El... I wish I could stay like this forever.”

The feeling was mutual. Edelgard’s arms came to rest around Micaiah, stroking her white hair.

“I know,” she said. “And I wish our time together never had to end.”

* * *

As Micaiah slept soundly in her arms, Edelgard watched the sun rising over the distant mountains. The vibrant orange hues mixed with the cool blue of the pre-dawn light worked in harmony to paint a beautiful picture. She took it all in: the radiant colours, the feelings still running through her body, the beautiful girl who’d found peace in her embrace.

Soon enough, all of it would slip away again. She’d be back on that foggy road, locked into an indeterminable future.

But at least Micaiah would lead her people into a glorious tomorrow. She’d find success, and happiness, and love. Under her, Daein would reach the prosperity that Edelgard had risked everything to find.

Even if Fódlan fell back into the church’s clutches, ushered into a new age of lies and regression, of inequality and injustice, then at least there was one kingdom out there—out there somewhere in a world she’d never see, a world she could only ever know through stories—that she’d been able to help.

Then, like the seasons endlessly changing, their perfect moment would end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to 7_27_1978 for suggesting this pairing to me -- it's been a joy to write, and a real opportunity to dig into these two characters even beyond just smut. It's quite strange to realise how much they have in common when they're put side-by-side. 
> 
> As usual, feel free to leave your suggestions for uncommon F/F FE pairings (with or without possible scenarios) in the comments. There's a couple of ideas from earlier works I'm still interested in trying, but I won't be tackling them in any particular order.


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